Crossing the Star
by walked-into-the-sky
Summary: It's like they're star crossed lovers. Only worse. Spam-centric with a side of Creddie.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, Superman, or Hermione from Harry Potter.

Okay, this is what happens when spicedcheese watches an iCarly marathon with her little sister. Spam and Creddie to an extreme. Yay. This will be a four-shot. Btw, I may have the age difference between Spencer and Sam totally wrong…so, uh, if I do, let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks.

And, uh, I'm sure they're both super OOC, but I'd like to think it's because this fic takes place two years after the show (and possibly because this is sort of…mature). So…yeah, sorry about that.

BTWs. Spencer=SUPER HOT.

Warnings: References to sex, underage drinking, masturbation and birth control.

-Begin-

It's an accident.

He's tired, he's just spent four hours covering a giant globe with glue and feathers and equally colorful marbles and he thinks he'll never be able to unstick his left pinkie and ring fingers. He stumbles blindly into his room, to his bathroom, opens the door, and remembers abruptly that he had removed his shower head the previous night because he had decided that he needed a newer one with better spraying power.

Spencer hates his impulses and grumbles as he turns and makes his way up the stairs to Carly's bathroom. She and Freddie are out at some random, couple-y place and he figures he'll have plenty of time to fully remove the excess glue from his fingers, his right elbow, and his hair before she gets home and kicks him out. He finds the door closed, but thinks nothing of it as Carly has been getting more private since that awkward day when she asked him to pick up her _prescription_ at CVS and he, out of concerned, brotherly instinct, peeked and found birth control.

He twists the knob, pushes it open, and suddenly there's Sam Puckett, his sixteen year old sister's sixteen year old best friend, standing there in a bra and a _very_ small pair of panties and Spencer's spinning and shouting, "SORRY!" and the image is burned into his eyelids.

--

Sam thinks that maybe Spencer's avoiding her.

The first time he sees her after _seeing_ her he is walking into the kitchen and she and Carly and Freddie are sitting there, talking. His eyes slip from his sister to her boyfriend and finally to her and, after staring a fraction of a second and gripping his glass of iced tea so tightly his knuckles are white and it's a good thing he's not stronger, or he'd break that glass, he turns and leaves without saying a word.

"Wonder what that was about?" Freddie asks softly, as Spencer stops in the TV room and stands facing the door for at least a half a minute before he sits and turns on the television and stares at it in a way that suggests he's not really watching it. Carly shrugs and takes a pretzel out of his mouth and Sam almost gags on her pizza rolls; the relationship _is_ six months old but she can't get used to seeing them like _that_.

"Who knows, it's Spencer."

Sam thinks she knows and she can't decide if it's a good or bad thing.

--

Spencer decides that he can't be around her. At least, not until he can close his eyes and _not_ see her as a centerfold.

--

She's had a crush on him for two years, since that first time she saw him in his beloved tux, the one that got him that date with the cashier girl. At first, she thought it was just that she had _just_ realized he was cute or something, which was completely understandable as he_ was_ good looking and older and always around, doing funny, albeit strange things and he could be charming. But time progressed, she remembered she'd always thought he was cute and she saw him with girls, and it was like her stomach was boiling. It was all she could do not to jump on the women and rip their hair off their pretty heads.

She thinks maybe its unhealthy, lusting after her best friend's big brother the way she does. Especially since it's kind of obvious he sees her in the same light as Carly. To him she's Sam: little sister and _not_ Sam: woman.

It kind of makes her sick.

--

One night-two weeks after he _saw _her, not that he's counting-she and Carly are having a sleepover and he walks into the kitchen in time to see her bend over, rummaging through the refrigerator and her camisole rides up on her lower back, exposing a bit of smooth skin, and it stops him in his tracks. She lets out a triumphant, "Ha!" and straightens and turns, holding whatever it was she had been looking for. The first thing he sees is that she's not wearing a bra and it's like his stomach has suddenly decided to take up residence in his throat and the can of soda he's holding slips from his grasp.

Sam stares at him as his drink explodes at his feet, holding a jar of pickles and looking a mix of stunned and something he can't quite place and he has a flashback of the day she stayed behind when Freddie and Carly ran upstairs for one of their iCarly meetings to drink the remains of a jar of pickle juice. He remembers how vaguely revolted he had felt at the time and there's suddenly a horrible sort of heat between his legs.

"Spencer," she says softly and he turns and bolts.

--

Sam sits down on the kitchen floor with her jar of pickles, stares at the soda that's seeping across the floor, and tries not to cry.

--

Spencer sits on his bed, his head in his hands, disgusted with himself.

Wanking off to thoughts of one's little sister's best friend-who is, incidentally, _twelve years younger than him_-is just plain wrong.

He makes a vow: he'll never do it again.

And he won't look at her either, if that's what it takes.

--

Sam walks in on Freddie and Carly having sex in the iCarly studio one evening and stalks out seconds later, only after Carly shrieks, "SAM!" in horror, shocking her out of her momentary state of paralysis, and tries and fails to banish the image of her two best friends _like that_ from her mind. She goes downstairs and finds Spencer lying on his back on the floor of the TV room with his upper body in a large cardboard box and a bowl of marshmallows on his lap.

She's furious with Carly and Freddie, but mostly just with _him_, so she snarls, "Your little sister and her boyfriend are getting messy upstairs, some big brother you are!" before tripping in her haste to get the fuck out of that apartment and slamming the door behind her.

--

Spencer doesn't do anything about Carly and Freddie.

The first time he had sex he was fifteen after all, and it was on his parents' bed with a slutty classmate from his art class named Belinda. And he hadn't loved her the way he knows Freddie loves his sister; he hadn't even liked her. Besides, that's what Carly's birth control is for, isn't it? Sex with her boyfriend?

He's starting to think Sam hates him now.

The idea kind of makes him want to punch something, but he knows it's a good thing so he makes no effort to fix it.

--

Carly throws this Halloween party in her apartment and Sam, who is still super pissed at all of them, only goes because she knows there'll be booze (Spencer is kind of a _progressive_ legal guardian) and god knows she needs it. She puts on a long black wig and calls herself the bride of Dracula and punches Gibby when he calls her out on not making an effort to celebrate All Hallow's Eve or whatever. She grabs the first can of beer she sees, drains it, and wanders around, trying to feel like she belongs there.

She sees Freddie and Carly making out on the kitchen counter, he's got a hand up her skimpy skirt (Sam thinks she's trying to be Hermione from _Harry Potter_, but she's sure Hermione isn't as slutty) and he's got this stupid Superman costume on (God, they were supposed to be a couple, why didn't they coordinate or something?) and they're getting really into it. Sam doesn't know why she gets so angry, it's not like she's got _feelings_ for Freddie or anything stupid like that, but she just feels so jealous and lets it out by upending a punch bowl over their heads. Carly shrieks and Freddie has to rip off his sopping cape because it's strangling him (it could be because Sam's stepping on the bottom of it, but she doesn't care) and they shout at her in unison.

She's deaf to their words though and, knowing full well that people are staring, she grabs a nearby bottle of vodka, takes at least four shots worth in one long guzzle, and stalks away from Carly's cry of, "What is your _problem_?"

Then she sees the light from under Spencer's door and it's like everything falls into place.

--

The party's in full swing outside the door and Spencer sits in his room with his headphones on, blasting Nirvana and trying not to_ think_. The worst part is knowing _she's_ out there, probably dressed in a similar fashion to his no-longer-little sister and he can't help imagining it, despite his mantra that he _won't go there again._

He thinks he hears shouting, but it's hard to distinguish the noise from the party from Kurt Cobain so he just sits and stares at his wall and breathes.

Then the door swings open, slams shut, and suddenly he's looking at Sam, wearing jeans, a rumpled t shirt, and a long, tangled black wig. For a second he thinks he's in the clear and can pretend he wants to go to bed or something to get her out of his bedroom, but then she stumbles forward and he gets a good look at her face.

She's drunk and his stomach his playing leap frog up to his throat again.

"Spencer," she says in a horribly sexy, husky voice and she's crawling onto his bed in a way that really shouldn't be legal. He leans back against the headboard, feeling more trapped than he has in his entire life.

"Sam," he replies, trying not to sound like a frightened child and he hopes he succeeds, because he needs to be the adult here.

"You hate me," Sam's hand is on his leg now, his left calf, and it's starting to slide up. Spencer swallows hard.

"No."

"Then why don't you talk to me, _look_ at me anymore?" she demands, the slight slur that takes her words diminishing the full anger of the question.

She's touching his thigh and Spencer's breath is coming in sharp spurts and he has to stop this NOW. His hands lift and press against her shoulders; he had intended to push her backwards, to get her away, but now his arms aren't working and he's just _touching her_.

His mind is screaming at him _this is wrong!_ But the heat between his legs begs to differ.

"Because I can't," he replies and she glares.

"I'm not a kid anymore," and Sam's right, she's not. She's been able to function as an adult for years now, she's finally starting to look the part, and Spencer doesn't know which is worse: the fact that she knows it or that _he_ does.

She kisses him because she's bold like that. Spencer pushes her, trying to get her off for a fraction of a second before the taste of liquor on her mouth clouds his judgment. He hadn't noticed that she'd brought a bottle of vodka in with her but, if they're going to do this, and he gets the feeling that there's no going back now because she's in his room and offering him the liquid courage with lidded eyes, he's glad she did, because he's going to need it. He takes a long drag, so does she, and they're kissing again and he's pulling off the black wig and tugging the scrunchie out of her hair so he can properly run his fingers through it. It's all teeth and saliva and tongues and this is so wrong, so goddamn wrong.

Sam puts her hands up his shirt and he needs to take another sip of vodka. He's getting buzzed, but he's not drunk, and this has gone too far already and he honestly doesn't have the strength to stop it.

He doesn't even protest when she starts in on his belt.

They don't take off their shirts (he's not sure and his brain's fogging now, but he thinks it's a security thing) but Sam takes off his pants and his boxers and hers are soon to follow. She straddles his legs and Spencer has to look at the ceiling, close his eyes, because this is _too real_.

The worst part? It's better than his dreams.

--

When it's over, Spencer collapses beneath her and covers his face with his hands.

"What have I done?" he chokes behind them and Sam feels a stab of guilt because she kind of forced him into this. She rolls off of him and then looks down at his thighs and her breath catches in her throat because she'd forgotten something Carly mentioned to her about this and she really should have thought ahead. He glances at her, then follows her gaze, and she watches as his eyes widen at the sight of the blood. Then he lifts his head and he just stares at her, horror and guilt and something that looks remarkably similar to rage spattered across his face like the mess she's left on him and she feels like she's going to throw up.

Spencer knows.

--

_She was a virgin fifteen minutes ago._

_She's sixteen years old._

_Spencer, you sick bastard._

He doesn't know why he's so angry; he could have and should have stopped it, but she's looking at him now and there's this guilt on her face (Sam's beautiful, he realizes, more beautiful now than ever before) that he just can't stomach. He gets off the bed and stalks to the window and stares out at the Seattle skyline in the night. It doesn't occur to him to put on pants, he's just so focused on what happened and he just wants to throw himself through the glass he's staring at or something equally self destructive.

"Spencer," there's a tiny sob in her voice.

He doesn't want to look at her; he just wants her to leave.

Five minutes later the door slams shut again.

--

A/N: Eh. It got pretty angsty there towards the end. Hm. Well, please review. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly, I'd be a man named Dan. As I am, decidedly, a female, it's obvious that I do not. Also, I don't own Watchmen either. So yeah.

Thanks to reviewers. And readers, you know you SO want to join their ranks. I want to know what you think of the style.

So, Spam, Creddie. More underage drinking, sex, and a pregnancy test.

**Part 2**

Sam doesn't apologize for her behavior at the Halloween party until Christmas break.

"I'm sorry," she tells them in a rather strained voice after their last official iCarly show of the year, slumped on the bean bag chair and staring at her shoes and playing with the tips of her hair to avoid looking at them. She can feel them gazing at her and it's obvious they both know what she means and the vomit she's been holding back for three months threatens to escape her again. Carly sits down beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" she asks softly and suddenly Sam understands the significant looks Carly and Freddie have been exchanging whenever she sinks into the memories of _that night._ They know her too well.

"Are you…" Freddie starts, but cuts himself off when Sam glances up at him moodily, "Are you sure you're okay with us?" he continues, gesturing vaguely between himself and Carly. Sam lifts an eyebrow and perhaps they didn't know her as well as she'd originally thought.

"Don't be stupid, Fredward," she says nastily and Carly squeezes her shoulder in a mixture of warning and support, "I'm not jealous because it's you two, I'm jealous of what you _have._"

Then she clamps her lips shut, because she'd never meant to say something like that out loud. Carly and Freddie stare at her, obviously not comprehending that the great Sam Puckett wants an actual, serious relationship with a boy rather than the botched one week affairs she'd taken to in the months following Halloween. She's earning herself a reputation and it certainly isn't one she'd have approved of when she and Carly had been fourteen and she'd still been a bit of a tomboy and she misses her old self, because her old self never would have had sex with the captain of the football team right after his practice in the locker room. She's becoming such a slut.

"Carly!" Spencer's voice floats up the stairs, putting a cherry on top of Sam's self disgust by making her stomach clench in a decidedly inappropriate way, "What do you guys want for dinner?"

She knows he thinks ignoring it will make it go away. But if the fact that he still doesn't look at her is any indication, it's not working nearly as well as he'd thought it would.

They still don't speak and every time she looks at him it makes her want to cry.

--

Spencer knows Sam's going downhill and fast, he hears Carly and Freddie whispering about it whenever she's not around. She's sleeping around and she's drinking more and more. The word _alcoholic_ is thrown out by his sister and he feels sick because he just knows that it's his fault.

But he still sees it in his head every night. It's like a broken record he can't turn off and he keeps doing it over and over and over and it just won't stop.

--

Sam gets drunk with Jake Crandall over spring break in March and they have unprotected sex on his car hood.

She wakes up the next morning on her sofa and realizes her period's coming up.

Or rather, it's supposed to be.

--

On April Fool's Day, Spencer's sitting on the couch eating what he thinks is a hot dog out of the freezer and watching a show about sea turtles when Sam blows into the apartment sobbing and shaking and a total mess.

His first instinct is to yell for Carly because that's obviously why Sam came here and she isn't looking for comfort from a man who's been ignoring her for going on seven months now. But then he remembers that Carly and Freddie are out and, before he can really think about it, he's on his feet and saying, "Sam…what is it, tell me," and she's in his arms, pressing up against his chest, and her tears are creating a large wet spot on his t shirt.

It takes a while to calm her to coherency and by then they're on the couch, he's still holding her as close as he can, and she's still got tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I…Spencer, I think I'm…"

Her hair smells the same as it had on Halloween, like watermelons, and her body's so warm and feels so right against his that he's having trouble concentrating. But then she lets loose this piteous sob that is just so _not_ Sam that he has to ask again, "What's wrong?" He rubs circles on her back, slowly and gently, and she fists both her hands in his shirt and lifts her head. They're faces are so close now and god, he wants to kiss her.

"I think I'm pregnant," she says in a small voice.

For a moment he doesn't believe her and thinks that this is some sick joke born of months of his cold shoulder (it _is_ the first of April, after all), but then her eyes look so devastated and her chin's quivering and Sam's just too much of a hard ass to pull off such an act convincingly, so it just _has_ to be real.

Then it's like his whole world has turned red.

Spencer can honestly say he's never felt rage like this before. It's like it's boiling his blood, his heart is pounding so hard he's surprised it's not flying out of his chest, and he knows he's gripping Sam's arm tight enough for it to be painful, because now she's looking at him with something akin to shock. He pushes his back off the couch cushions and he can hear his ragged, angry breathing when he hisses, "Who?"

Not _are you sure? _Not _what the hell were you thinking?_

_Who._

Sam's eyes are very round and very blue, "I…Spencer…does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!" he's on his feet and she's sitting there as he towers over her and he's shaking with fury now, "I want to know which idiot didn't think to—!"

If there's one thing about Sam he's always admired, it's the fact that she doesn't take crap from anyone, not even him. She's on her feet and cutting him off before he can even get a good grip on his own tirade, "Don't act like you care, Spencer!" she snarls and she's shaking just as hard as he is.

"I—what do you mean? Of course I care!" he says back, sounding a strange mix of angry and confused to his own ears. Sam snorts nastily and turns to stare away out the windows on the far side of the room and he finally notices that there are still tears glinting on her cheeks.

"Never mind," she says finally after a long moment of silence, "Forget it, I'll just go," he grabs her arm as she tries to make a break for it, pulling her back, but not close. He can never be close again, he'd promised himself that on Halloween, "Spencer," she protests and her voice is growing quiet and frightened again, "Please…"

"No," he grumbles and leans down to pluck his car keys off of the end table behind him, "No, let me help you. You haven't taken a test yet, right?"

Sam looks up at him and he sees fresh tears forming, "Right."

"Then let's get one," he breathes and gently guides her to the door, fighting to leave the irrational and undeserved rage behind him in the loft. Sam lets him pull her to the elevator.

He owes her this, at the very least. And if she is, he'll owe her the beat down on the kid who did it too.

--

Sam sits in Carly's bathroom later, alone, and stares at the test sitting so innocently in the cup.

It's negative.

Spencer's waiting outside and she knows she should tell him, because he's obviously still furious and is doing a crap job of hiding it. But she needs a moment, just a moment, to cry because she'd never been that scared out of her mind before and so the relief is just as powerful as the fear. It is five minutes before she gets up, wipes her eyes, and goes to the door.

He's sitting against the wall, his head resting on his knees, but he jerks up when she enters the hall and stares at her with a mixture of fear and anger and worry and everything she hadn't thought him capable of in the past seven months. At least, when it came to her.

She shakes her head and he slumps, his eyes sliding shut and he lets out a sigh of relief. Sam sits on the floor beside him and puts her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she says softly and she means it. As much as she wants to bash his face in, he'd saved her life today. Spencer's tense because of the contact, but he doesn't pull away and she thinks that maybe these past months have been as hard on him as they have been on her.

"It's not that I don't care," he breathes after a few minutes, "It's not. I want you to know that."

Sam nods, partly because her throat is sort of closing and partly because she doesn't quite know what to say to something like that yet. Spencer's arm slips around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he murmurs.

She believes him.

But really, it's not enough.

--

Summer is hard for Spencer because Sam shows up in the flat more than once wearing a bikini.

She never _looks_ at him when she does it though, and for some reason this gives him the impression that she's feeling guilty about it. He's not mad, though. He just makes a point of leaving for the day whenever Carly mentions that she and Sam are going swimming.

And they're not friends, him and Sam. He doesn't think they can be, not anymore. Things between them are too…too _not right_ for anything outside of polite conversation. He does say hello to her now though, because he knows now that his distance created her little downward spiral in the first place. She smiles at him and stop sleeping around and he's never felt so relieved in his life because he never wants to feel what he felt on April first again.

--

Sam turns seventeen in August and Carly and Freddie decide a small party with only the _four_ of them is the way to go. Spencer bakes her this delicious cake and actually manages a small smile for her.

She can't remember the last time she was this happy.

--

The morning after Sam's birthday, Spencer wakes up to find himself on the couch with Sam pressed insolently into his side and, to his horror, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Carly and Freddie are in a similar position on the other side of the couch, which tells him that they all must have fallen asleep during _Watchmen_ the previous night. It had been late, his mind tells him comfortingly, but it doesn't change the fact that this is the exact opposite of what he'd wanted when it came to Sam. He'd been stupid to let her sit next to him and even stupider not to go to bed when he'd felt himself nodding off.

He disentangles himself from her gently, rests her still sleeping head on a throw pillow, and goes to take a cold shower to rid himself of that dirty, disgusting heat between his legs.

--

Senior year finds Sam getting close to Gibby.

He's grown out of his baby fat and he's not bad looking, necessarily. They start hanging out exclusively towards the end of September and she has to kick herself (literally, but just on the shins so she doesn't look too crazy) whenever she starts comparing Gibby's sense of humor, personality, _everything_ to Spencer. It's not the kid's fault that his eyes don't crinkle at the corners they way Spencer's do, that he doesn't get her little jokes the way Spencer does, or the fact that she doesn't love him the way she loves Spencer.

She can admit it now. It's not an infatuation, a crush, or just plain lust.

Sam's in love with her best friend's big brother.

Great.

--

Spencer hates Gibby.

Hates him, wants to punch him whenever he comes into the flat, wants to break his fingers whenever he starts going through the fridge like he owns the place, and wants to just plain kill him whenever he kisses, touches, so much as _looks_ at Sam.

And it's obvious Sam knows it too because she shoots him these knowing looks over Gibby's shoulder. She's taunting him now and he doesn't know why. Hadn't he made efforts to try to fix things? God, he'd practically made the giant band aid they've got on their relationship right now.

One night, after giving Gibby this long, wet kiss, she comes sauntering into the kitchen and they're alone and he can't take it anymore so he hisses, "What are you trying to do?" and she turns on him, looking almost miserable.

"I'm in love with you, Spencer," Sam says softly, sadly.

He drops the spoon he's stirring the spaghetti sauce that Carly wanted for dinner with and flees to his room.

--

Sam knows she went too far the next night because he's giving her the cold shoulder again.

Somehow, as much as it hurts, she can't bring herself to regret it. She's too angry at him to care if the confession makes him uncomfortable or upset.

In fact, she sort of relishes the idea.

--

Spencer sits on his bed and stares at his hands two nights after Sam's little confession.

He had broken his promise to himself, he had thought of her and he had jerked off and he was so disgusting he couldn't even breathe.

--

Sam applies for only one college in November: University of Washington Seattle. She lies to Carly and parades out a list of schools she's sent applications to because right now she can't imagine herself in any other state, any other city, than Seattle and she knows her best friend will pitch a fit if she finds out. Both Carly and Freddie tell her often that they think it's best that she gets out of the city, they can tell something's off with her, but they're both too wrapped up in each other to really see what.

She's not complaining, though. Carly already has enough to say about everything else she thinks and does and Sam can't imagine what she would do if she ever knew about Spencer.

--

Spencer hears Carly and Freddie talking one night in early December. Apparently Sam broke things off with Gibby.

Afterwards, he tries so hard not to be happy it hurts.

--

Spencer gives her this weird, angry smile when she walks into the loft two days after she'd dumped Gibby. She immediately guesses that he's heard and, while the fact that he'd smiled made her happy, she's still kind of depressed when he reverts back to his old game of ignoring her.

--

Christmas is awkward because Sam's mother's out of town and Carly begs Spencer to let Sam stay for the two week vacation.

He says yes, knowing his sister would read too much into it if he refused, and spends the first five days avoiding them both. Then, on Christmas Eve, Sam comes back to the flat from checking her mother's mail with this letter and this stupid (gorgeous) grin on her face and Carly's taking the envelope, opening it, and they're both squealing about how she got into U of W Seattle. Sam hasn't looked this happy in months and his stomach drops to his feet.

Of course. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. Sam Puckett isn't one for making things easy, especially not things like this.

--

Sam leaves Carly upstairs right at midnight on Christmas Day, intent on some of the pickles the Shay fridge always seems to hold and finds Spencer slouched on one of the barstools holding a candy cane and looking pensive when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. She stops and waits for him to do something (like tell her to get lost or something), but he doesn't speak or even look at her, and she takes it she has permission to get what she wants. Meaning the _pickles_, Spencer himself is out of the question.

She's halfway to the fridge when he nearly gives her a heart attack.

"U of W, huh?"

He sounds so miserable and Sam spins on one heel to gawk at him, stunned. Spencer's still staring at his candy cane, holding each end delicately with the pointer fingers and thumbs on each of his hands. He twists the red and white stripes slowly and Sam swallows hard. This is sort of it.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

And there it is, the anger she's been waiting for. His hands are shaking on the candy cane and he's still not looking at her and Sam doesn't know what else to do.

"You know why."

Spencer lets out a slow breath and, as if he has to force himself to, he lifts his gaze to hers and it's like she's been struck by lightning or something because she _can't move_, "Sam," he says softly and his voice is quivering with so much emotion that she has to close her eyes because that, coupled with his angry, sad, desperate stare is just too much for her to bear, "Sam, I think you should go somewhere…somewhere else. It'd…" he falters for a moment and he looks like he's struggling, though whether it's with words or something else entirely she's not sure, "it'd be better for you."

Sam knows she's an impulsive person, so really she should have seen what was about to come out of her mouth and realized how stupid it was. Instead, it slips out in an angry voice.

"Tell me you don't love me, Spencer," she spits, "Tell me and I'll leave the state, I swear."

His eyes grow round and his mouth falls open and he looks more stupefied than even when Carly had told him that she and Freddie were official. For a long moment they only stare at each other and Sam waits, her stomach, all her organs, in knots as she fails to anticipate his response and then, to a mixture of her horror and relief, footsteps break the tense silence and Carly's flouncing down the stairs all giggly because it's Christmas and asking Sam what's taking so long. Sam has already turned away from the still dumbstruck look on Spencer's face and makes her way to the fridge without answering Carly's question. By the time she's turned back to the two siblings Spencer's got his face under control and she lifts an eyebrow at him and tries to seem confident and all he has to say is, "I don't," and Carly never has to know what it means.

But he doesn't do anything. He just gets up and walks away.

Carly blinks at her and asks, "What's up with him?" as Sam stares at the bedroom door he'd shut behind him. She again ignores her best friend's question.

It's her turn to be shocked, after all.

--

He's not a good liar and this just proves it.

The rest of the vacation passes in a stony silence. Spencer's sure Sam either doesn't know what to make of his reply to her demand or she knows exactly what it means and she's pissed. Either way it's not a good situation and he curses day in and day out the fact that he hadn't been able to make his mouth lie the one time he'd needed to. He hates his faults more than ever now.

On New Year's Eve Carly and Freddie decide to go to this stupid, teenage blow out and drag Sam along with them.

He can't pretend that he's not relieved, especially since now every time he sees her a nasty little voice in his head says, "_Oh look, there's the seventeen year old girl you've got the hots for. How old are you again? Twenty nine?"_ She doesn't complain when Carly does up her makeup in a way that should be outlawed, but does pitch a royal hissy, however, when Carly mentions that Gibby's going to be there, and Spencer sort of shares her sentiments.

Gibby isn't right for Sam.

The nasty voice decides to talk again as he thinks this, "_And what, Spencer? You are?_"

As the door shuts behind the three teenagers, Spencer aims a vicious kick at his metallic kitchen trash can.

This is wrong, so wrong.

But he can't deny it anymore.

He's in love with her.


	3. Chapter 3

Reviewersssss…you guys are legit the best.

SquishyCool: Lol, I totally saw the Sam birthday episode like fifteen minutes after I posted that chapter and was like _damn_. But, like you said, small detail. Thanks for the review!

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or Troy or Gabriella or Big Macs.

I changed my mind. It's no longer going to be a four shot; it's going to be a five shot.

And I don't know how the New Year's broadcast works on the West Coast, as I'm from New England. So. I'm having Spencer TiVo the ball drop to watch it at midnight. Sorry if that's totally wrong. Yeah.

Warnings: I guess what could be called typical for this story now, only less extreme.

**Part III**

"It's tapped," Freddie says morosely, dropping the keg hose and tossing his cup aside, "This is a New Year's Eve party, and the keg's _tapped_!"

Carly chuckles and puts her own cup down, "You'll survive, Fred," she places an arm around his shoulder and kisses his cheek and Sam fights the urge to grimace and look away. She's not nearly drunk enough to see their weird, couple-y, touchy-feely crap without wanting to vomit; she needs at least two more shots for that. Freddie continues to whine and Sam sees a slight frown forming on Carly's face and winces.

When Freddie goes to parties that aren't being thrown by Carly Shay, he has this nasty habit of drinking himself into unconsciousness. He's not an alcoholic, he doesn't have a problem, it's just something he does maybe once every six months, the last time being over the summer at some blow out Gibby threw while his parents were vacationing in Alaska. It doesn't make him a bad kid or anything and he's nowhere near as bad as Sam when it comes to—_overdoing _it is the word she likes to use, although Carly refers to it as _being stupid_. Sam thinks he just drinks like that occasionally because he needs to blow off steam and, with a mother like his, she can't really blame him. If she'd been landed with a mother like that, she would have run away years ago. And considering who_ she_ has for a mother, that is saying something. A lot of something.

Unfortunately for Freddie, Carly doesn't agree with Sam on this point. She sees it as a self destructive habit with no redeeming qualities and the mornings after are usually riddled with tears and loud voices and dirty looks. Sam can see it now. She'll wake up tomorrow in the Shay apartment on the couch to the sound of Freddie and Carly fighting upstairs and Spencer will be in the kitchen biting his lip nervously and obviously running an inner monologue on the pros and cons of interfering with the shouting match.

Sam turns away from her two best friends, grimacing at the thought, and she sees Gibby through a small part in the crowd. Their eyes meet and it's obvious he's going to try to talk to her or something equally awful.

"I'm leaving," she tells Carly and Freddie and stalks out of the apartment before they can argue.

--

Spencer's got this awesome plan for New Year's Eve. He TiVo'd the Times Square Special and he's going to time it perfectly so he'll be able to watch the ball drop when it's midnight in Seattle rather than in New York. He's going to eat popcorn, take a shot every time Carson Daly says, "ball drop," and pass out on the couch. It's going to be simple, it's going to be relaxing, it's going to be solitary and it's going to be pure bliss.

At eleven thirty he's got everything set up. The popcorn's popped, the vodka and shot glass are in position, and Carson Daly's head is on the television screen. Spencer settles on the couch, pulls a blue blanket up over his legs, and an image of a couple kissing, or as Carson puts it, "practicing for midnight" appears on the screen in front of him. The girl's blonde. He thinks of Sam and Gibby and is disgusted with himself.

But he can't help but hope that Sam holds to what she'd told Carly before the three had left. That she stays done with Gibby. Because Spencer doesn't think he can handle much more of seeing that stupid kid's face in his apartment, especially when three quarters of the time he's there he's got his stupid hands all over—

It's eleven forty five. The door swings open and rebounds violently on the wall. Sam kicks it again to avoid being hit, but with not nearly as much force as last time so she can catch it and push it shut behind her. Spencer bolts upright on the couch, twisting awkwardly in his seat so he can properly gawk at her in surprise and horror. She's panting and he gets the insane thought that she ran the whole distance between Gibby's apartment and here. He knows for a fact that it's seven blocks away.

"You didn't…" he begins, swallowing hard and shifting so he's facing her, "run here, did you?"

She nods absently, dragging the back of her wrist over her mouth, and wanders into the kitchen. Carson starts talking about how romantic New Year's Eve can be and instead of feeling sick like he knows he should, Spencer's sort of giddy.

She had run from a party with all her friends to be here, alone, with him.

Sam comes back into the television room drinking deeply from a can of soda, her head thrown back and her back arched and Spencer scoots over slightly so she can sink down onto the couch next to him. After draining what must be half the can she places it on the coffee table, looks up at the TV, and asks, "Why aren't you yelling at me?"

On any other day he would have been, Spencer realizes. He grimaces and drags a hand down his face roughly, "I'm going to make an exception tonight."

Sam laughs and it's kind of happy and kind of bitter at the same time, "Why? Believe all the crap Carson's telling us about how _romantic_ tonight is?"

Spencer shakes his head, but elaborates aloud because she's still not looking at him, "No. Seems exaggerated to me."

She nods, her profile looking almost absent, though he can't be sure because he's trying to be discreet while he studies it, "Will you let me kiss you at midnight?" she asks softly. Spencer frowns and he's sort of torn.

"No."

Sam doesn't argue.

At eleven fifty, things in both Times Square and outside in their own city things start getting loud and rowdy. Sam watches Carson commentate on it all in silence and Spencer, though he's facing the television, watches her. He doesn't understand why she'd come here, when she had a party full of friends and many boys, as much as the thought disgusted him, that would willingly kiss her. Yet she'd come here, to an apartment that contains only an almost thirty year old who has done nothing but ignore her for the past few months and her stupid pickles that he always compulsively purchases when he goes out for groceries.

"You know," Sam says suddenly after taking another brief gulp of soda, "Freddie's got his heart set on going to Stanford. They're going to break up soon."

Spencer nods, he's been waiting for it, because as much his little sister and her boyfriend love each other, they're young and they need to make their own choices and their own mistakes. The question is why she is talking about this now, when they're sitting on the couch waiting for a ball to drop and trying to ignore the electricity between them.

"I don't know if she can handle it," Sam continues sadly, "I mean, she loves him. She really does."

Spencer's been worried about that too. But Carly has Sam and him to offer comforting and understanding shoulders to cry on. And, he abruptly realizes, Sam has none. She'd had none a year ago in the wake of Halloween and if things keep going down the path he's chosen for them, she never would.

"It's eleven fifty seven," she's looking at him now, "I've made a New Year's resolution."

"Yeah?" he asks slowly and he knows he shouldn't lean closer, but he does anyway, because for some reason he feels like his own rules don't apply tonight.

"This year, I'm going to leave you alone. Give you the time you need to get your shit together or whatever it was that got your tongue on Christmas," Sam's expression is hard and Spencer feels like she slapped him. He wants to say _no_ and he wants to say _college will change things_ and he really wants to say _I was wrong_.

Even though he knows it'd all be a lie.

College for her won't change it for him; she's still going to be Sam Puckett, Carly's best friend. His little sister's best friend. She's still going to be so young and, as with Carly and Freddie, she needs to make her own choices and own mistakes. He is going to be thirty soon and if he lets this happen, _them_ happen, he'd be robbing her of the final days of her youth. And he's not going to do that. He'd promised himself-and _her_, though not out loud-on that Halloween night a year ago that he'd let her be young.

But tonight it feels different. Tonight there's something in the air that can let him forget. Tonight he feels like he can pretend that the two of them-they can be something _now _and, just for tonight, he can give her something that they both need.

The countdown's starting on the television, outside, all around them. Even Sam's whispering it under her breath. Spencer sits up straight and slides closer to her, so close they're nearly touching. Sam stops at, "fort—," and turns a stunned look on him, "What are you doing?" she whispers.

She's so close, he hasn't been this close since her birthday and he needs to remind himself of how to breathe.

"Spencer," she gasps as he leans even closer, "I thought you said you weren't going to let me kiss you at midnight?"

"I did," he replies softly and she shudders, undoubtedly because of his proximity, "I said _you_ weren't allowed to kiss _me._"

Sam's eyes widen as she gets it.

The clock strikes. The ball hits its platform.

And Spencer kisses Sam.

It's kind of perfect.

--

Sam can't recall the last time she'd woken up this happy.

Even though Spencer's not there and Carly and Freddie are passed out on the arm chair three feet away, the memories of the night before, of Spencer kissing her, holding her, despite his whisper of, "Just for tonight," are more than enough to tide her over for her year of distancing herself from him. It isn't like they had sex or anything, but what they had done (holding each other, eating popcorn, throwing popcorn, and NOT getting drunk) had been better. Much better.

Sam gets to her feet and wanders into the kitchen, intent on the pickles that the Shay fridge always holds. Spencer joins her ten minutes later on the floor, opening a bag of plain white bread and setting it on the tile next to her open jar.

She smiles at him, but in a friendly way and with none of the _meaning_ she'd thrown at him before. He returns the gesture mildly and holds up a piece of his bread.

"To the New Year?" he offers softly and Sam can hear Freddie and Carly stirring in the next room. She picks up a pickle and pushes it against his bread.

"To the New Year," she affirms.

--

In the afterglow of what Spencer considers a very healthy New Years, for him and Sam that is, Freddie and Carly start arguing more and he begins to worry.

He knows that Sam's trying to act as a buffer, but even her eccentric behavior can't stem the tension that's slowly and steadily building between his sister and Freddie. And he's been preparing for this since before the holidays, knowing that Carly and Freddie had only applied to one common school, incidentally U of W Seattle. They've both gotten in, of course, but Freddie's intent on Stanford and Carly's obvious jealousy of the place is starting to get nasty and fast.

One night Spencer walks into the kitchen in time to hear Carly confess to Sam that she's starting to regret the decision to not apply to the University of California at Berkley because she hadn't wanted to turn _her-and-Freddie_ into _Troy-and-Gabriella_.

"It was such a stupid reason," she moans, her head in her hands, and Sam rubs her back helplessly while shooting Spencer a helpless look. He nods his understanding; things are going downhill for the couple and fast.

--

Sam's with Carly when she gets Freddie's text in February. He's gotten his acceptance letter from Stanford.

Sam can't remember the last time she'd seen her best friend cry like that.

--

Spencer kind of wants to kill Freddie when he comes by two nights later and has the gall to kiss his sister right before telling her that he's decided to go to Stanford. And it's hard not to glare when she can't hide it any longer and breaks down, running upstairs in a state of complete and total misery. But Spencer simply stares when Freddie turns a desperate look on him and even manages a shrug when the boy asks, "What was I supposed to do?"

Because in truth, Freddie _had_ done the right thing. But it was still Spencer's little sister getting hurt.

--

It's over in March and Sam's in shock.

_Carly-and-Freddie_ are through. Over and done with.

--

Spencer and Sam spend a week comforting Carly. The worst part is that Freddie still lives directly across the hall and she still has to see him every day at school because they share a lot of their classes. She's a mess and he knows that his support at home and Sam's support at school and work and everywhere else are all that's keeping her together. Spencer even stops thinking about how strangely comfortable he and Sam are getting in their new, resolution-induced, pseudo-friendship; he's so worried about his baby sister.

She decides on U of W Seattle and tells the two of them she can't see how she could ever live without them.

For some reason, Spencer feels a stab of guilt at her words. And if the look on Sam's face is any indication, she's having the same problem he is.

--

Sam finds out that she and Carly are similar in their ways of dealing with rejection one April afternoon while skipping her English class in favor of sneaking off to go get a Big Mac. Frighteningly similar ways.

She kind of wants to beat the living shit out of Jake Crandall because she's starting to see a trend in his "conquests" that she definitely doesn't like. Sam'd been heartbroken and he'd been all over her and now Carly is heartbroken and he's getting her to cut class so he can have sex with her in his car's back seat.

This is _not_ what Sam had thought she'd find when she'd wandered out of the high school ten minutes before to make the long trek to the out lies of the parking lot, where she'd been landed on the first day of school because she'd been two hours late to parking space registration. Seeing her best friend's back pressed against the left back window of Crandall's car had frozen her in her tracks and now she has to decide just how she's going to approach this situation. Of course, she knows the only thing she can't do is walk away as there are too many things wrong with this…this _thing_ to let it continue. Sam stands there a moment, breathing in and breathing out if only to retain some semblance of self control, before she stalks forward and knocks on the glass that Carly's back is pressed against in a rather demanding way.

She sees Jake's eyes, wide with horror and then, upon meeting her furious gaze, fear. Carly's squirming to put her bra back on and she twists out of his grasp and throws the door open, falling on the pavement beneath them in her haste to get out and ripping on her red cotton turtle neck as she gets to her feet. Sam catches her arm and slams the car door shut in Jake's face before he can start offering explanations or protests or _whatever_ and gently leads her best friend away in the direction of her broken down blue '90 Honda Accord. It's still four rows away and Carly starts sobbing when they're halfway there.

"I…I don't know what I was thinking. I was going to the bathroom…and I ran into him, and we started talking and he asked about _Freddie_ and I got so upset and he hugged me and then he _kissed_ me and I didn't know what else to do so I kissed him back! And then he wanted to know if I'd come out here with him and I don't know why I said _yes_, Sam!"

Sam catches sight of her car, takes out her keys, and pulls the still wailing Carly across the aisle, "You're upset," she grumbles, understanding the feeling all too well, "It's fine, completely understandable."

"I'm so glad you walked by," Carly says, slumping against the cracked blue paint of the driver's side back door as Sam fumbles with the key and key hole, "I'm so glad it didn't go any further than it did."

Sam nods slowly, "Believe me, that makes two of us. That kid wouldn't know a condom if it slapped him in the face."

She looks up then, and Carly's staring at her with wide eyes, and suddenly they're both laughing hysterically and leaning heavily on the car for support and Sam can't remember the last time she's laughed till her sides felt ready to burst, but she's missed the feeling. Carly's wiping her streaming eyes and gasping.

"Thank god for you, Sam. You always know how to make me feel better."

Sam smiles triumphantly.

Things are looking up.

--

It's remarkably less angst-filled, isn't it, this chapter? Sort of intentional, I'll admit it, I was rereading the first two and wondering "where the hell did all this angst come from?" and then I remembered, "hey, my next chapter's supposed to make things get sort of better!" And then I wrote it in less than an hour. It's a growing trend with this story, I get slapped across the face with inspiration and then I churn out a chapter like it's nobody's business. Hopefully that will happen again soon.

Soooo you guys should, like, review and stuff. Cuz it gives me inspiration.


	4. Chapter 4

So listen.

I've said a lot of things about the length of this story. Four shot, five shot, whatever. But it's kind of taking on a life of its own, you know, and it's own and it's demanding more and more. So, as of right now, I can honestly say I have no idea how long this story is going to be. Just thought I'd let you know.

Also, I recently returned to school, meaning I'll actually have stuff to do. Updates may be reduced, my work load has yet to be determined.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

Warnings: Same from before apply.

**Part IV**

It's hard for Spencer when he films Carly's graduation. Not because he can't believe that his baby sister has graduated or that he's so proud he's crying or anything like that. He's just having trouble keeping the camera focused on his little sister and not on her best friend. Sam's glowing. Glowing and smiling and looking so brilliantly and defiantly triumphant that he slips more than once. It doesn't even bother her that her mother's not in town for the occasion and it's honest when she tells both Carly and Spencer after the ceremony that she _doesn't care_. He's never been prouder of her.

Afterwards, Freddie finds the three of them in the crowd of blue gowns and grabs Carly into this tight and intimate and most definitely _more-than-friends_ sort of hug. Spencer doesn't get pissed, it's so obvious they've still got feelings for each other and he's going to let them work it out for themselves. Sam leans into him subtly while they watch and he can't help it, he puts an arm around her shoulder and presses her tightly into his side.

She's a grown up now—sort of.

--

Spencer treats the three of them—her and Carly and Freddie, to dinner at a surprisingly upscale French place. They get a booth and Sam can't believe her luck when Carly actually chooses to sit beside Freddie and she gets the place next to Spencer. Even better, when she grasps his hand under the table, he lets her. She can't help the stupid grin on her face and Spencer's looking surprisingly flushed and she's never, ever been happier.

--

iCarly has to end and they all know it.

Spencer has to mediate this debate they have on the third day of summer: should they wrap it up sooner or later? Sam actually gets violent, shoving Freddie roughly against the refrigerator when he makes the point that the longer they put it off, the harder it will be. Carly and Spencer pull her off and, after some shouting and cursing, they come to an agreement. Two weeks and they'll say good bye to their fans for the last time.

--

Sam hates it.

She hates how much she's come to depend on iCarly, how much she defines herself by it. She supposes it has something to do with her hidden fear that Carly wouldn't want her around if she wasn't a fixture on the show. It's stupid and she knows it, but sometimes, when they have a legitimate fight, she thinks that the only reason Carly seeks a truce is the show. And now more than ever the idea of losing Carly terrifies her. Because losing Carly means losing Spencer. And she'll never let that happen. _Ever_.

--

It's kind of awful, that last night.

Spencer films it, because all three of them want to be on the screen together. He has trouble holding the camera steady, especially when Carly starts crying and Freddie starts blinking. Only Sam holds her chin steady, but her eyes too are over bright. There's this awkward pause before they sign off and Sam breaks the hesitation with a surprisingly sincere tone.

"Thank you," she says, "for all of your support. You guys are the greatest and we love you. Thank you."

Its then that Spencer cries.

--

Sam will never admit it, but she worked for five hours on writing that parting speech.

--

That night, before Sam leaves, Spencer pulls her aside.

"I'm proud of you," he tells her sincerely and his heart swells as she smiles through those miserable tears.

--

Summer is fast. Too fast.

Sam spends every day and quite a few nights in the Shay apartment, laughing and reminiscing with Carly and Freddie and trying to get Spencer alone. He's good at dodging her, but not great. More than once they end up alone in the kitchen together and more than once she kisses him and just as often he lets her.

All too clear, however, is the fact that they're _not_ together and they're not going to be together any time soon. She's come to terms with that though. This pseudo relationship thing they've got is sort of enough. For now.

--

Freddie leaves for Stanford in the second week of August. Carly, Sam and Spencer stand on the sidewalk and stare after his car as it drives away down the street and there's this awkward silence that Spencer doesn't understand.

"It's just," Carly whispers, "for some reason I thought we'd end up in the same place."

Sam puts a loose arm around her shoulder, "Listen," she says softly and it's like she's screaming in Spencer's ear, "you know I don't believe in all that destiny crap, but seriously. If it's meant to happen, you will end up in the same place. Eventually."

He's staring at her and he knows that, out of the corner of her eye, she's staring back.

--

Carly and Sam make this decision. They're not going to room together; the same hallway yes, the same room, no. Branching out, they call it. But Sam can't shake the strange silence that's been hanging between them since Freddie left, nor can she understand it. And maybe she's being paranoid, but she gets the feeling that Carly's been watching her lately, especially around Spencer.

They move into their respective rooms before each of their roommates and Spencer helps them both. Sam makes a point of doing most of her work however, pushing Spencer towards Carly every time he starts inching towards her belongings—she's never been dependant and she secretly wants to show him that she won't be one of _those_ girlfriends. But he's weird about it, actually full out complaining that she won't let him really help her.

"Sam, those boxes must be heavy," he says, frowning as she carries two large cardboard boxes, stacked awkwardly and moving slowly, down their second floor hallway from the elevator to her room, "Let me help."

"Spencer, you've known me how long?" she fires back, "When have I ever let anyone do physical labor for me?"

It's a good point and he knows it, but he doesn't relent. If anything, he pushes harder and really, she doesn't get him.

--

Saying good bye to Carly is one thing, saying good bye to Sam is entirely another.

Not to say that parting with his beloved little sister is easy, quite the contrary it's anything but and, despite the fact that they will still be in the same city and he can drop by whenever, Spencer's not ashamed to admit that there are tears and he hugs her as many times as he can. But still, he can't shake the feeling of complete and utter devastation when, leaving Carly in her room to finish unpacking her remaining boxes, he wanders into Sam's room almost without thinking about it and, when she turns to just _stare_ at him, drags her into his arms.

She lets him, and hugs him back, and Spencer kicks the door shut behind him just in case. He's not sure Carly would read into the embrace, but he doesn't want to take the chance, and he knows for a fact that she'd be freaked out—not that there is anything for her to be freaked out about, but still. They're her Spencer and Sam and she can never know about…it. At least, not yet.

"You know," Sam says against his chest, "I meant it. When I told you I loved you."

He doesn't reply and she lets him go and turns away.

"I'll see you later, Spence," she grumbles. He nods before realizing she can't see, what with her back to him and all.

"Yeah," he says hollowly.

--

Sam's roommate's name is Jess. She's preppy, peppy, and Sam can't help but think she's a little annoying. Her boyfriend Jeff, who's been with her since middle school or something equally ridiculous, helps her move in and Sam simply sits on the top bunk and stares blankly at the two of them because they're so sickeningly _in love_ (or so they claim) that it's got her nauseous. Finally, when all of Jess's crap is piled in the closet, on her desk, and on the bottom bunk, they decide they need to break in the mattress without even asking Sam's thoughts on the matter. She leaves, disgusted, and wanders to Carly's room just to get away. Her roommate hasn't arrived yet, she's due in two days because she's from Montana and she's got to drive or something, and Sam can't say she's not happy about that. She's got Carly for herself for at least a little longer.

--

The apartment's horrible when it's empty, Spencer had forgotten about that right up until he walked in after moving Carly and Sam into their dorms. Then it's like a knife in the chest and he sort of has a break down, this one full of cursing and another vicious blow to his kitchen trash can.

They're gone, both of them, and he's never been more miserable in his entire life.

--

To Sam's dismay, Carly really, really likes her roommate Trish and Trish really, really does not like Sam. Something in their similar dispositions, they butt heads barely five seconds after they meet because they're wearing the same shirt. But Carly does introduce Sam as her best friend and Trish, despite the fact that it's obviously painful for her to do it, tolerates her if only to keep things civil with her roommate.

Jess and Sam don't take to each other, though. In fact, they don't really talk at all.

--

Spencer decides that his old rules are crap. He stops bathing, he doesn't do his dishes, his clothes start piling up all over the apartment and all of his old Sam restrictions are thrown out the window.

He doesn't even have it in him to be disgusted with himself anymore. He misses _her_—both of them—too much.

Besides, she's a college student now. An adult. So it's not wrong. Not really.

Whatever.

--

Sam surprises herself by understanding everything her social science professor says in her first ever college class. She's not sure, but she thinks she's built for this.

--

He's tried, but the sculptures just aren't coming. He's lost his inspiration.

--

There's this cute boy in her writing class that makes a point of smiling at her every chance he gets. His name is Wes and Sam thinks maybe he's flirting with her.

It's kind of weird, but when he talks to her for the first time, she lets him because he seems nice enough. They find they share a taste in music, movies, television, books, almost everything and she can't help but notice they're sort of a match made in heaven or something.

And he's fairly funny and even her one track mind can admit he's very attractive. Carly thinks they'd be adorable together.

Sam's not sure she disagrees.

--

Spencer calls Carly after a week and asks as casually as he can while sitting in a pile of his own dirty clothes in the middle of the kitchen floor how she's doing.

"Great," she says and the tone to her voice proves that she obviously means it, "Trish is awesome, classes are cool. Everything's great."

"Awesome," he replies quietly and starts picking at a loose thread on the leg of one of the pairs of pants he's sitting on, "That's great."

"Yeah," Carly already sounds distracted and he sinks lower into his pile. She doesn't need her big brother anymore, "Hey, how's Sam?" he throws out before she can rush him off the call and go off and do grown up, college girl things.

"She's doing really well," Carly answers without a hint of hesitation, "Really well. Like, she actually does her homework. And there's this really nice guy she's been hanging out with."

The breath leaves his lungs. It's like he's suffocating under the weight of that last sentence. _ A really nice guy…_

"Oh yeah?" he forces out and prays he sounds natural.

"Yeah," Carly laughs, "I think they're going to go out. And he's so perfect for her, Spence. Like, _perfect_."

Spencer's heart hasn't hurt like this since…forever.

Sam doesn't need him anymore either.

--

"Hey."

Wes has taken to spending time in Sam's room because it makes Jess take off to Jeff's room. He's doing her a favor, Sam keeps telling herself, it means nothing and they're just friends.

"Hey," she greets lightly as she spins her desk chair away from her laptop and latest essay, glad for the distraction, "What's up?"

"Nothing," he sits down in Jess's chair and smiles at her. His eyes are really great; she notices abruptly, really blue and warm. And his playful brown hair's not too shabby either. Her chest constricts and she doesn't know what to make of it. "Just thought I'd stop by, see if you wanted to hang out."

Sam shrugs and hopes her voice sounds normal, "Sure," she leans back in her chair, "What do you want to do? Eat?"

He stares at her for a long moment and the look on his face becomes so _she doesn't even know_ that it makes her heart pound. She's seen that look before, almost ten months ago now, on New Year's Eve and on _Spencer's_ face. Wes wants to kiss her and she knows it.

Sam leans back further, bracing herself.

"Yeah," Wes says finally, "Food sounds good."

She realizes she hasn't been breathing and exhales softly.

_That_ was too close for comfort.

--

A/N: I know. Its taken on a life of its own and Wes just shoved his way into it. And now...let the drama begin? I guess. If I had to guess, I'd say three more chapters. But, as we all know, I've been wrong before.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

Standard Warnings Apply. There's this reason its rated M, you know.

This chapter's kind of shorter than the others. I apologize, but understand, the woes of a college student are many and I am typical of this stereotype.

Hopefully next chapter will come easier.

**Part V**

Carly comes to visit him in the first week of November and goes absolutely ballistic when she finds the mess he's created in her absence.

"Is this some kind of joke, Spencer? Because if it is, it's not funny!" she shouts as she picks up a particularly nasty pair of his pants and waves it in his face, "Are you punishing me or something?"

This catches him off guard and ruins all the defensive comebacks he'd come up with in the seconds between her entering the apartment and seeing the mess and Spencer stares, stunned, "Punishing you? Why would I—?"

"I don't _know_, Spence," Carly's voice has lowered and she's gazing miserably around the apartment, so sunk into disrepair that it's unrecognizable at this point, "I mean, you were never like this before I went to college and while I lived here. Why would you do this to yourself for any reason other than me leaving for college?"

It's such a loaded question that it leaves him gaping like an idiot, but the truth is that Spencer knows the answer and it's not what she expects. It's not that Carly left for college, he'd lived without her before and he knows he could do it again. No, it's more than that. Or different than that, depending on how one views the situation.

He's not depressed because Carly's gone.

It's the thought of Sam that leaves him feeling like there's a hole in his chest.

--

Sam goes on this almost-date with Wes. It's weird and she can't really meet his eyes, but she feels almost happy and for a few seconds, Spencer's not plaguing her mind.

She comes to a conclusion.

She needs distance from Spencer and if distance means Wes, then so be it.

--

Spencer tries to keep the apartment clean, he really does.

But still, his room is like a hell hole and not just because of the clothes and the beer cans and the trash he still hasn't gotten around to taking out.

And anyways, the memories make it impossible for him to sleep in there, so why bother?

--

Wes kisses her two days before Thanksgiving break.

Afterwards, despite her own plans regarding _Spencer _and _Wes _and_ distance_, Sam doesn't know what to do, let alone how to say it.

He laughs breathlessly and leans back on the couch of the lounge they've been studying in for the past four hours, "This is the part where you kiss me back. Or you say no."

Like she needs reminding. Sam swallows hard and stares at him because the truth is she liked kissing him, or felt as much as anyone whose heart belongs so entirely to someone else can feel when being kissed by a friend, and it's like Spencer's voice is ringing in her ears, "_Yeah_." His last word to her, so detached, so _meaningless_ and while she knows that there's something there between them, she also knows it'll be years before the stubborn jerk admits to it. And here's Wes, smiling nervously at her, it's obvious that he likes her more than she'd even realized before now, and she can't help it because the fact is that all teenage girls want to feel loved and Spencer? He doesn't do that for her.

Not yet, at least.

So, recklessly and with more guilt that she'd expected, she kisses him back.

This, she understands, is what distance feels like.

--

Spencer and Carly have Thanksgiving together. Sam had actually opted to spend the time with her mother, who was contemplating moving out of the state (though he suspected she might be avoiding him, because that is just what the two of them do, you know), and wasn't there, but her presence is weighing heavily on the back of Spencer's mind.

Carly'd mentioned it in passing, it was a simple statement of fact, but naturally he'd fixated on it.

Sam and that kid he'd heard about before, during that first, miserable phone call—Wes something or other, they're an item now.

He'll never admit it out loud, but he's furious, though of whether it's with her, with that kid, with himself, he's not sure.

--

At the end of Thanksgiving break Sam's the first one back on campus on early Sunday morning. She sits alone in her room and tries with all her might not to think and by the time Carly gets back, she finds, to her surprise, that she's been somewhat successful. Carly sticks her head in the door and greets her brightly before wandering down the hallway to deposit her bags and for a second, just a second; Sam thinks that maybe she's in the clear.

Then Spencer throws the door open and kicks it shut in the same breath.

He doesn't even really hesitate, though there's this weird, suspended moment during which they stare at each other before, in unison, she stands and he starts walking and this is all happening too fast, she can't keep up.

And then her back's against the wall and, despite how hard her brain's trying to reject it, Spencer's kissing her harder and angrier than ever before. His hands are buried in her hair and she's gripping his shirt before she knows what she's doing and he's pressed so close and her heart's beating so fast and this is everything. _Everything_.

"Oh God."

For one of the worst moments of her life, Sam thinks it's Carly that walked in on them. But then Spencer's jerking backwards, his thoughts obviously on a similar wavelength to her own, and she sees that it's Jess, wide eyed, in the doorway. Spencer backs away from her and it's already obvious she can't stop him and she wasn't sure she'd have tried if she'd stood a chance, anyway. Jess steps aside to prevent him from barreling her over before turning to look back at Sam, disbelief plain on her face.

"That," she says slowly, "was_ not_ Wes."

_Thank you, Captain Obvious_, Sam thinks bitterly.

--

Spencer has never said a faster goodbye to his little sister, but he's never needed to run away more than this either, so he figures it's good justification.

--

Jess watches her for hours after witnessing the kiss, Sam can feel it on the back of her neck, but she ignores her. There's this weird silence and she struggles, because all she'd wanted was some distance and _of course _he'd gone and taken it from her and really, it's sort of too much.

"Who was he?" Jess asks finally, obviously fed up of the tense quiet and Sam lifts her head to find genuine, compassionate concern in her face. She lets out a shaky breath.

"He was—," the words stick in her throat and won't let her speak them. Who was he, to her, really?

Nothing.

Everything.

She sobs.

--

Spencer drinks more than he should when he gets home and takes out some glue, some feathers, and a piece of jagged wood.

The work is messy and he gets a ton of splinters and what comes out of it is a lopsided, birdlike representation of how horribly skewed, distorted, unnatural his existence has become.

It's not really a sculpture, but someone as inspirationally challenged as he is can't really complain.

--

She tells Jess everything. Literally.

"You _slept _with Carly's _brother_?"

"Keep your voice down!"

She's long since been over the tears and Jess's shock is to be expected, but she's in no mood for high pitched shrieking, especially Carly's right down the hall and the shrieked words are highly incriminating. Sam kneads her forehead with her palm as Jess continues to gawk.

"She doesn't _know_?"

Sam shoots the girl an incredulous look, "If you slept with your best friend's older brother, would you tell her?" she asks flatly. Jess blinks thoughtfully.

"No, I guess not," Sam rolls her eyes, but Jess is too intent on this new revelation to notice, "But…I mean, you were drunk. And he was sort of drunk too. And he is really, _really _hot. But you knew how…badly that could end. So why would you do it?"

Sam bites her lip, but the words come out anyways, "I'm in love with him."

Jess stares silently for a moment.

"Oh," she says finally, "That's a good reason."

--

Days pass and Spencer's mood deteriorates again.

He figures he's made a mistake somewhere along the line, though he's not sure if it's that he has pushed her away or that he hasn't pushed her far enough. His relationship with Sam is toxic, he's not stupid enough to think otherwise, and he's sure that it's because of his own handling of it that it's gotten so bad. After all, _he_ was the one who made it clear that they weren't—aren't in a relationship and really, he has no right to be pissed that she's seeing another guy. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that he is pissed off, but he's not going to pursue rectifying the feeling. He figures he's done enough damage, if the devastated look on Sam's face when he'd escaped her room was any indication. He's sure he's already gone too far.

Then, inevitably, the though comes.

Maybe, just maybe, he should apologize.

--

She makes Jess promise she won't tell Wes about Spencer and Jess laughs in her face.

"Don't be stupid, Sam, I would never do that."

Sam thinks maybe Jess could be an excellent friend if given the chance.

--

He can't help it. Two days before Carly and Sam's Christmas break, he caves and calls her cell phone.

It takes seven rings, but she answers, "Hello?" and the anger beneath her words is palpable.

"Hi," he breathes.

There's nothing simple about this and he hears a voice in the background, a male voice, asking who it is. It must be the boy and Spencer's gut clenches, but then a girl speaks and Sam sighs. "What?" she asks him and sounds such a strange mix of furious and defeated that it sort of breaks his heart.

"I'm sorry," he says.

No explanation is needed.

Her reply is soft and her voice catches on the word, "Okay."

--

Sam doesn't recognize herself anymore.

She used to be such a hard ass, she never put up with anything from anybody and she always got, through both acceptable and questionable means, what she wanted. And now?

Now she settles.

She's more than a little disgusted with what she's become.

--

Spencer thinks maybe letting Sam come for Christmas break had been a big mistake.

Not because they're awkward, although had the current position he now found himself in not occurred, it would have been a very good reason. No, it's because he's sitting in his armchair and on his couch, curled up together, are Sam and that kid—Wes. Carly's out, he'd let his supply of her favorite coffee had dwindle and she _couldn't _live without it, so, against his better judgment, he'd let her go. Of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty and he wanted to break little Mr. Perfect's nose.

All Spencer had wanted was to have a decent Christmas; he'd planned on making a huge dinner and watching holiday movies and trying to make up for his behavior with Sam. And now he has to look at _this_ the whole break.

Sam makes a point of never meeting his blank stare and Wes has got his hands all over her and under her and around her and Spencer wants to snap each and every one of those fingers.

He's half passed infuriated when Carly finally comes back.

Of course, the fact that she's got Freddy on her arm stuns him out of his rage.

--

A/N: Review. I am but a humble fanfic author and I need support. And stuff.


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